


House Call

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m... not actually used to having someone be concerned about me, sir. I’m afraid I’m not well-trained in how to respond.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uniquepov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/gifts).



> Post-ep for _The Gift of Promise_ , written for Uniquepov. As always, many thanks to Lindenharp for BR services.

The knock at his door’s unexpected. James doesn’t get many visitors, and even fewer who would call unannounced, and he doesn’t even need the fingers of one hand to count those likely to be on the other side of the door right now. 

His landlord would phone first and, while it could be a neighbour looking for help, he’s pretty sure they’re all out this evening. So, given it’s the wrong time of year for charity collectors or political canvassers, it’s got to be his boss.

Though why Robbie Lewis would be at his flat at half past seven, when he sent James home two hours earlier with an order to get some rest and not show his face back in the nick until the morning, James has no idea. Well, unless it’s work, but why wouldn’t Lewis have phoned him? Or had Dispatch phone, if it’s a callout?

But it is Lewis, and for once the man’s not wearing one of his collection of work suits; instead, he’s in jeans and a sweatshirt. He steps back to allow his governor to enter. “Sir, I wasn’t expecting to see you–”

“Know you weren’t.” Lewis holds up a white plastic bag James hadn’t noticed. “You eaten?”

He hasn’t, and until now he hadn’t realised he was hungry. “Indian?”

“Yeah. An’ no prawns, promise.”

“Thanks.” James’s smile is rueful as he reaches out to take the bag. “I know it had nothing to do with the sandwich in the end, but I still don’t think I could face another prawn as long as I live.”

Lewis follows him into the kitchen. “Can’t say I blame you. You’re feelin’ all right now? No lingering effects?”

Surprised, James shakes his head. “I’m fine. They said it was only a small amount – Eileen was building up the effect on Voss cumulatively, so one dose wouldn’t have caused major harm.”

“Glad to hear it.” Lewis is standing close to him as he unpacks the foil containers. “Wasn’t just talking about the arsenic, though. Voss had you at gunpoint earlier.”

James glances up at that, and catches an expression in Lewis’s eyes that, just for a moment, makes his heart skip a beat. It’s not just that his governor was worried for his safety – they do worry about each other when one or other is in danger – but that Lewis is letting him see it. Normally, even after a risky situation, they just get on with things. A quick “You okay?” and it’s as if it never happened.

This isn’t normal. 

“I was fine. You made sure of that, sir – by putting yourself at risk.” He frowns, pausing in the act of laying out plates. “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t do that again.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, but if someone tries to kill you, you better bloody believe I’ll be there to stop them if I can. That’s just the way it is.” He bypasses James to get to the fridge and dives in for a couple of bottles of Bridge, making himself at home in the way they both tend to at each other’s flats. “An’ you needn’t look so surprised, man. You’d do exactly the same if it was me.”

Of course he would, but that’s hardly the point. It’s not the same thing at all, he’s about to say. But the protest dies on his lips as he sees the look Lewis gives him as the other man comes to sit at the breakfast bar. 

James has known for a long time that he’d lay down his life for his governor, were it to be necessary. And now he knows that Lewis would do exactly the same for him.

He almost falls onto the stool and at first stares down at his food, barely seeing it as his mind tries to process what he’s just discovered. Lewis doesn’t seem to notice, eating with the healthy appetite James is used to seeing in his boss.

After a few moments, Lewis nudges his elbow. “Come on, eat up, man! I didn’t bring it for you to let it go cold.”

“Sorry.” He starts to eat, and then continues with enthusiasm – it’s a particularly good lamb bhuna. “And thank you, by the way, sir. You didn’t have to do this.”

Lewis shrugs. “I was hungry, and I fancied the company. And, yeah, it gave me a chance to check that you’re okay.”

He’s about to brush off Lewis’s concern again, but stops himself. His governor deserves better than that, especially after the trouble he’s been to – and what he’s just revealed. “I’m... not actually used to having someone be concerned about me, sir,” he admits, keeping his face averted from Lewis. “I’m afraid I’m not well-trained in how to respond.”

“I have noticed,” Lewis says dryly. “Well, since you weren’t observant enough to notice until now, you can start getting used to it, y’hear?”

“I’ll try, sir,” he promises, and this time makes himself look at Lewis. The man’s watching him with that familiar look of fond exasperation.

“You might think about it, you know,” Lewis says in between chewing. “At least _trying_ not to get yourself into dangerous situations. I know the arsenic wasn’t your fault, but confronting an armed terrorist and murderer on your own? I’d rather you didn’t do that again.”

James quirks an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it only a couple of months ago that you got hurt by an armed murderer when you...” He pauses for effect. “...confronted her on your own?”

“She wasn’t a known terrorist,” Lewis points out, then takes a bite of naan.

“And I didn’t know Voss – Doheny – was at Judith Suskind’s house,” James counters.

“Still.” Lewis waves the rest of his naan in James’s direction. “Be more careful in future, eh? I’d rather not lose you on top of... Well.” He grimaces, and his gaze becomes distant. “You know. First Morse, then Val.”

Okay, there’s definitely something different about Lewis tonight. Even if he’d felt this way – which is news to James – he’d never have come out and said it under normal circumstances. 

“I’m sorry I caused you concern, sir,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can actually allow himself to say. He’s certainly not going to draw attention to his shock. It’s only after he’s spoken that he realises Lewis will probably have been expecting mockery instead – but that doesn’t feel right.

“Well, like I said, don’t do it again.” 

Lewis turns his focus back to eating, and so does James, though the action is largely mechanical; his brain is busy analysing what he’s learned and observed. It’s only ten minutes later, when they’ve finished dinner and cleared away the plates and he’s got his boss another beer, that he looks Lewis directly in the eye again and asks what’s on his mind.

“What’s brought this on, sir? You wouldn’t normally react like this when we’ve been in a bit of trouble.”

Though, even as he asks the question, he wonders whether Lewis always has, but never said anything before. All the same, what’s different this time?

The fact that he’s asked seems to take Lewis by surprise. His boss blinks, then tugs at his ear and looks away. Then he exhales sharply. “You would decide to ask. An’ normally you wouldn’t, either. We’d both behave like it never happened. Well, maybe it’s time we didn’t.”

James can’t move, feels rooted to the spot. For a moment, he’s almost lost the power of breath. “Okay, if you mean that,” he manages after a bit, “then I should tell you that I was bloody terrified when Voss turned the gun on you. Not to mention the stroke I almost had when I got that phone call telling me you’d been taken to hospital as the victim of a knifing incident.”

Lewis nods. “Yeah, that’s it.”

As if the words are dragged from him, James recites, “ _So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life_. It’s completely out of context, of course, but–” 

But he’s finally given voice to what he’s known for more than a year now, and what he’d never intended Lewis to know. It feels strangely liberating, even though he’s never going to be able to look his governor in the eye again.

Lewis takes a step closer to him. “What’s that from?”

“Milton. Paradise Lost.” He meets Lewis’s gaze and is mesmerised. If he can believe what he’s seeing, he isn’t the only one for whom those words are true. “Sir–” He tries to inhale, but finds that his breathing is shallow.

“Robbie.” Lewis’s voice sounds different as well; less assured. “Need you to call me Robbie, James.”

“Robbie,” he repeats obediently.

Lewis nods. “That’s better.” He comes nearer, and he’s so close now that James could take one slight step and they’d be touching. “Can’t do this if you’re calling me sir, now can I?”

“Do what?”

In answer, Lewis – no, Robbie – reaches up and tugs James’s head down, and kisses him.

It takes James a moment or two to react, and for a blissful second he kisses back, before sanity returns. He breaks away, breathing heavily, his heart pounding and other parts of him protesting loudly at the interruption. “Sir, are you...? How much did you have to drink before you came over here?”

Lewis gives him an exasperated look, and that more than anything else tells him that his boss is of sound mind. “Nothing, soft lad, as you should’ve been able to tell. And, yes, I do know what I’m doing, though to be honest I can’t believe I had the balls to do it.”

_But you’re straight_ , James almost says, but stops himself. He of all people should know that sexuality is much more complex than that, and he knows only too well that Robbie would take great pleasure in reminding him of the lecture he delivered to his boss on the subject a few years ago. 

Instead, he shakes his head ruefully. “You have more courage than I do. I’ve been telling myself for longer than I’m willing to admit all the reasons why I shouldn’t.”

Robbie’s mouth curves ruefully. “Didn’t know I wanted to until this afternoon – and then I couldn’t figure out why it’d taken me so long to realise it.”

James still doesn’t move. One of them has to be the voice of sanity, just in case. The last thing he wants is Robbie panicking over this tomorrow and deciding that he can’t work with James any more. “Decisions made under stress are rarely sensible,” he points out carefully.

“Agreed,” Robbie says, lips twitching. “But I’m not under stress now. Wasn’t when I sent you home earlier, either. Or during the couple of hours I made meself take to think things over. Far as I’m concerned, the only reason not to do this is if you don’t want to – an’ it’s fine if you don’t, man. I’ll survive. Wouldn’t be the first knock-back I’ve had in me life.”

James can’t stop looking at Robbie as his conscience finally lets himself believe that this is real, that Robbie does want him. And, even if it’s just for tonight, he wants it so very badly that he’ll take the inevitable hurt when Robbie breaks it to him gently that it was only ever a one-off. 

He smiles. “Just let me be clear – you’re not offering to take me to a Barry Manilow concert, are you?”

Robbie’s face creases into a grin. “Learned me lesson on that one, didn’t I?”

“Then you’ll get no knock-back from me.” He closes the gap between them and dips his head. “Now, where were we?” he murmurs against Robbie’s lips.

“Oh, do I have to explain everything to you, Sergeant?” Robbie mutters, before James shuts him up with a kiss.

________________________________________

“You’re not busy tomorrow night, are you?” Robbie asks later as he’s preparing to leave. In the interim, they’ve spent a couple of very satisfying – and illuminating – hours wrapped closely on James’s sofa.

“Unless we’re working, then no,” he replies, then switches gears. “Wait a minute, do you need me to work?”

“Don’t be daft.” Robbie runs a hand up his arm in what James can only call a caress. “Want to see you, don’t I? Come over to mine after work.”

James’s smile is so wide that his lips ache. Not a one-off, then. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Robbie reaches up to kiss him again, and James obliges by bending down. It’s a kiss that leaves them both breathless and James wanting. Robbie too, he realises once his brain’s working sufficiently to recognise what’s in his governor’s expression.

“You’re too bloody tall to do this standing up,” Robbie complains once he regains his breath. “Reminds me – bring a toothbrush.” The grin he gives James is wicked. 

“Inspector Lewis, are you propositioning me?” James asks, unable to hide his delighted amusement.

“Why, Sergeant Hathaway, are you accepting?” 

Instead of answering, James runs out of the living-room and into his bathroom, returning a couple of seconds later with a brand-new toothbrush, which he sets on the counter next to his keys and warrant card. 

Robbie smiles approvingly. “Good man. Now, if you can just try to stay out of trouble between now and tomorrow evening...?”

James inclines his head. “I will endeavour to do my best. I do have excellent motivation, sir.”

“Always knew you were a clever lad.” Robbie pats James’s cheek. “Just see that you remember it.”

“I’ll send myself a text if you like,” he says, tone deadpan. “ _Don’t get killed tomorrow. Robbie wants to have rumpy-pumpy_.”

“Git,” Robbie says, but he’s laughing as he leaves the flat. And, half an hour later, James is laughing again as he reads the text he’s just received:

_So you don’t forget – no getting yourself killed before shagging me. That’s an order._

He texts back: _Does that mean I’m free to get myself killed post-sex?_

_Only during_ , comes the reply two minutes later. 

_I look forward to my demise_ , he replies, and goes to bed, making a mental note to delete the texts from Robbie’s phone tomorrow, just in case.


End file.
